


Fever Dreams

by CRINGEJUM



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Family Dynamics, Fever Dreams, Gen, Implied/Referenced Manipulation, Not Canon Compliant, Sickfic, This was baiscally written a few days before the more recent streams came out, tommy's exile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28175130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CRINGEJUM/pseuds/CRINGEJUM
Summary: “Tommy, I think you’re sick.”“Thank you, you’re sick too.” he rolls over to face the thin tent wall. “Sick as fuck.”Dream laughs quietly, but stiffles it. Tommy smiles in self-satisfaction.“No, I mean it Tommy. I think you have a fever.” the blanket around him is pulled further up, tucked around his shoulders. Now that he rolled over, he feels how damp his hair is from the sweat on his neck.“Don’t worry about it, Dream. Nothing I can’t sleep off.”The hand in his hair leaves and his head feels cold. “I’ll be back Tommy. I’ll find something that will help you recover.”And just like that, he’s gone again.-Tommy is sick and has a series of confusing dreams.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 309





	Fever Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Have fun!

A cold hand on his forehead wakes him up, and he gasps for air as the morning light enters his tent.

“Dream-” Tommy’s voice has a certain raspiness to it that would be usual after waking up. “You were in a dream I just had.”

The masked man sits down next to the sleeping bag on the floor and tilts his head. The hand is still cold on his forehead, seemingly not warming up. “Tommy, I think you’re-”

“It was really bizarre, Dream.” Tommy groans as he tries propping himself up with his elbows. “Someone called me your son.”

Dream snorts, the previous thought he had postponed for later. “What’d I say?”

“Well, obviously that it isn’t true. And then there was this lady that looked like- ugh, I don’t even know how to explain it.” Tommy decides to lay back down. He’s really tired, and his mouth is dry. If he asks nicely enough, maybe Dream would bring some water to his sleeping bag. “You killed the guy in the end.”

“I did?”

“Yeah. It was actually really sad.” he looks at the black holes in the mask. He can’t see the eyes behind them. “You’d never do something like that.”

“Of course I wouldn’t.” Dream combs through his hair, and then lightly scratches his scalp, and Tommy lets him, because he’s been here for two months and it’s been so long since someone’s been affectionate with him. “Tommy, I think you’re sick.”

“Thank you, you’re sick too.” he rolls over to face the thin tent wall. “Sick as fuck.”

Dream laughs quietly, but stiffles it. Tommy smiles in self-satisfaction. 

“No, I mean it Tommy. I think you have a fever.” the blanket around him is pulled further up, tucked around his shoulders. Now that he rolled over, he feels how damp his hair is from the sweat on his neck.

“Don’t worry about it, Dream. Nothing I can’t sleep off.” he draws his pillow closer, not for the first time wishing he had a second one--not that this one isn’t comfortable enough just… one for his arms. To hug. That’d be nice.

The hand in his hair leaves and his head feels cold. “I’ll be back Tommy. I’ll find something that will help you recover.”

And just like that, he’s gone again. 

Tommy hopes that he comes back fast. He hasn’t even given him his armor yet. But at least he can sleep a little longer.

He blinks, and someone else is by his side.

“Wilbur,” he croaks. “When’d you get your coat back?”

His brother looks down harshly, and the mattress dips where he sits down next to Tommy. “Just once I’m not here to wake you up and you sleep til noon? Do you even take this seriously?”

Tommy quickly sits up, blinking the sleepiness out of his eyes. 

“Taking down Schlatt is not something you can take easy, Tommy.”

“Huh?” he throws the blanket off himself, sitting next to Wilbur on his mattress, legs angling awkwardly. “Of course I’m taking it seriously! I’ve been training the entire day yesterday!” he swings his knee towards his brother, hitting him lightly. “I’m just taking a day off.”

Wilbur stops, looking at Tommy in slight surprise. “Oh. I thought-” guilt seems to flash over his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize Wilbur, that’s weird.” 

Silence washes over them. Air in Pogtopia is always so stuffy. He feels like he can hardly breathe.

“Wilbur?”

“Hm?”

“Do you still want to blow up Manburg?”

Wilbur looks at him, but Tommy feels like he can’t see his face at all. One eye, two eyes, one nose, one mouth--and then he looks at it all, and it’s gone. Pressure in his ears build, and it’s like being underwater.

“I’ll never think about it again, Tommy. For you.”

Tommy gasps, finally breaking free of the pressure building. His head out of the water. His father shoots him a short concerned look, but he gives him a toothy grin. On tiptoes, he walks over to the kitchen table, barely able to look over the edge of the table. Wilbur’s beanie is a bit too big for him, but he hasn’t taken it off ever since Tommy gave it to him as a present on his 14th birthday a few days ago.

“Look, Techno.” Wilbur puts the book he got from Philza on the table. It’s something too complicated that Tommy can’t understand yet. “I’ve been reading and-”   
“Cults?” Techno squints at the book, his glasses forgotten in his room. “How come you always get obsessed with the most morbid things?”

“Pot kettle black, Techno.” Philza walks over, bringing over a basket of bread, with butter and jam. Tommy climbs up a chair, going for the knife to cut the bread. Philza swiftly grabs it before he can get to it. “Let Wilbur talk.”

Techno puts butter on the warm bread slice that Philza put in front of him and hums, indicating for Wilbur to talk.

“Did you know that a lot of cults would malnourish their members of vitamins and iron, and never let them sleep too long?” Wilbur sways from side to side, the strange book pressed close to his chest. “Then they wouldn’t be able to think clearly, and then it’ll be less likely that they’d leave. Easier to manipulate, in a way.”

Tommy plays with his wobbling front tooth. It’ll fall out soon. Mornings in his household are always slow and warm, Philza makes sure of that. His feet dangle off the chair, and he wonders when he’ll be able to touch the floor with them.

The bread tastes like cardboard.

“That’s peculiar.” Techno looks up. “Right, Tommy?”

Three pairs of eyes are pointed at him. He feels put on the spot--the sudden silence spreads like mold in his chest, and he leans back.

“Aren’t you hungry, Tommy?” Philza stands in front of him, the kitchen dark. The book Wilbur had is nowhere to be seen. Wilbur is nowhere to be seen. “Aren’t you tired?”

“I think I’m-”

The sun is setting, and Tommy tries not to frown as he looks at the empty space next to him. Of course, Tubbo said he’ll catch up later, but missing the sunset from their usual spot would be sad.

He considers putting in a disk--but it would just feel wrong.

“Tommy!”

He perks up, grin forming on his face. “Big man!” he scoots over on the bench, and Tubbo sits down, breathless. Running up the hill to Tommy’s house is always quite the exercise.

“Good news Tommy,” Tubbo starts after catching his breath.

“Oh?” Tommy leans back, smile still on his face as the sun travels lower and lower.

“Dream gave me the disks back.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Tommy stands up, screeching a laugh, boisterous. “You are not fucking with me, right?”

“Of course not.” Tubbo gets out a disk, and hands it over to Tommy like it’s the most precious thing they have both ever seen. In a way, it is. “Play it.”

He takes the disk. “Why would Dream give it back, just like that?”

“He’s really good. You should be glad you’re friends with him.”

Tommy’s hand trembles slightly when he puts the disk into the jukebox. “I… Of course I’m glad…”

The jukebox makes a quiet sound as it’s thrown on, the sound of it’s inner mechanics filling the air. Tommy sits down next to Tubbo.

He hears the disk spin inside the jukebox, and he sits there in anticipation. Tubbo starts bobbing his head, and it’s quite the funny sight, considering there is no music playing yet.

He waits. The music doesn’t play.

He waits.

Tubbo is still bobbing his head.

“Why isn’t it playing?” Tommy slides down the bench, next to the jukebox. “Is the disk maybe scratched?”

Tubbo stares straight through him. He’s enjoying the music. 

Maybe it’s Tommy’s fault. It has nothing to do with the disk, or the jukebox. Clearly Tubbo can hear it.

The jukebox crackles and Tommy turns towards it with a jump.

No music plays, but a silent voice--rough, but disgustingly familiar-

“ _ Can you hear me? We’re going home.” _

“I can hear you! I can hear you!” 

_ “You’re much lighter than you used to be, you know?” _

Tommy doesn’t know what that means.

“Ranboo, can you hear the music?” 

His friend turns towards him, away from the stars on the sky. “What music?”

“Oh.” Tommy looks at his hands. The disk. He never put it in. “Let's not listen to it today.”

“That’s okay.” Ranboo looks back at the stars. “Tommy, when do you know if it’s too much?”

“Too much what?”

“Too much everything.”

“I guess-” he rubs his hands together, sudden cool washing over him. He shivers. “I guess when nothing seems enough anymore.”

Dream laughs. “Good answer Tommy.”

“Why is it so cold.”

Dream puts a jacket around his shoulders, but it doesn’t seem to get warmer at all. The jacket is dripping wet. He gets colder. He still feels inclined to be grateful.

“Thank you. Why is it so cold?”

“That tends to happen.”

“Huh?”

“It’s normal, Tommy.”

The jacket is dripping wet. He still feels inclined to be grateful.

“Maybe,” the jacket is dripping wet. “Maybe it's time to see what you’ve been up to. Wake up.”

There is no floor under his feet. He’s flying.

“I’m cold.” The wind is harsh against his skin.

“Sorry, sorry.” Two arms wrap around him tightly. “I’m going as fast as possible, but soon we’ll be home.”

They’re going really fast, judging by how fast the trees fly by. He scrunches his nose up, looking at the snowy terrain. He never liked the cold.

* * *

A cold hand on his forehead makes him shiver, and he sighs wearily as he draws the big pillow next to him closer. He blinks, eyes getting used to the darkness around him.

“Another dream.” Tommy looks into his father’s eyes, tired and worn. Philza sits by his bedside, features brightening when he wakes up.

“A dream?”

“A lot of them, actually. Ah, dad, don’t be self-aware about the dreams. It’ll give me an existential crisis.”

“What are you talking about.”

Tommy sinks further into the bed. It’s weirdly soft. Comfortable. “You know… being in a dream but being aware about it being a dream? God, I hope I wake up soon. Dream told me he’s gonna help me. He said I’m sick.”

“I...noticed.”

Philza also noticed Dream acting weirdly. Coming to L’manburg and suddenly asking him how to care for a sick teen--trying to act like it’s an off-hand question. If it were anyone else, Philza might’ve even thought about an impromptu adoption that they told no one about, but the masked figure is often much more sinister than that. Philza knew that something was wrong with Tommy.

“Dad, this isn’t a memory I had. Where are we?”

“We’re safe.” Techno let him in immediately, even if hesitating at the sick boy in his arms. It always used to be funny how Techno and Tommy were similar in their ambitions, similarly determined and similarly stubborn.

Now it isn’t very funny at all.

“Safe could be anywhere. Narrow it down a little.”

“North of L’manburg. A cottage in a snow tundra. Far away from threats.” Philza sighs. “Tommy, we’re home.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope u guys liked this, even if its kinda confusing   
> Thank u for reading, and comments and kudos r always apreciated! <3333


End file.
